Trapped

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I feel so trapped. Trapped in this body, trapped beneath this skin with its layers of fat underneath. I feel so huge. I feel like I’m exploding, spilling over with fat, incredibly pudgy and thick. I’m sure I’ve got love handles. My stomach isn’t how I’m used to it being; it’s getting areas that aren’t perfectly flat and smooth and I hate it. I hate it I hate it I hate it. I feel so damned trapped in this body.

Body dysmorphia is not being kind.

But I feel like I have no right struggle. I don’t know what to do about it. I’m out of treatment, after all. The fight was supposed to be easier now. I’m not supposed to be sitting here wanting to give in to all these urges; I’m not supposed to be leaning this far into Ana’s call. What happened? What’s going on? Why is this so fucking hard?

I’m supposed to be okay now. I’m not supposed to go leaning on other people again. I did that before. Now it’s my turn to stand on my own two feet and be a big girl and handle myself.

The only problem is that then I’m left with myself, screaming on the inside.

I feel so trapped, and I hate it.

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2 Responses to Trapped

  1. yourothermotherhere says:

    Well, sometimes birds will keep bashing themselves into windows no matter how hard you try to keep them from doing so.

  2. Kimberly says:

    Oh my how I relate to your feelings! Especially of how you “shouldn’t be struggling” My boyfriend says to me all the time that I “shouldn’t have this much trouble because I’ve been through treatment and should “know” how to get back on track. Not to mention the overall guilt About nearly everything that I live with anyway. BDD is a nasty evil and I hope you are one day able to silence it and be free.

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